


Burn

by redbells



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Myths retold, Old tales in new skins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbells/pseuds/redbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bereft of the sun, she shivers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle XII: The Dirty Dozen. Prompts were darkness and fire.

Of all the things Persephone misses, it is the sun she misses most. In the misty darkness of the Underworld, she cannot trace bright Helios’s journey across the sky, cannot feel the warm touch of his rays upon her skin. She does not regret her choice, the moment when she grasped an outstretched hand and followed Hades into his shadowed kingdom, but she is a being of Spring, and she yearns for the sun.

She does not tell Hades. She loves him, loves his twilight realm, and for them she would sacrifice even the sun. But all the love in her heart cannot deny her bone-deep need for light and warmth. Day by day, it gnaws at her, a vicious cold that takes root in her chest and settles heavy in her bones.

She grows pale and thin, her body racked with shivers. She is a flower, withering away in the darkness.

Until one night, Hades stretches out his hand once more and leads her down an unfamiliar hall. At last they stop before a dark room, and his hand comes up to cup her cheek.

“Persephone,” he says softly, “my Spring. You are so cold.”

Hades is her quiet suitor, the man who fell in love with a nameless, barefoot goddess tending wildflowers in an empty field. Innocent. His love for her she does not doubt, but it has always been chaste.

Now, she stands before the darkness of his bedchamber, and does not hesitate.

She grasps his hand and lets him lead her into the room.

The flowing folds of her chiton part easily at his touch. He undresses her with quiet reverence, his hands sparking small fires where they brush her chilled skin.

She shivers, and it is not from the cold.

When she stands naked before him, he bears her gently down to the bed and settles himself between her thighs. Heat flares to life deep in her belly, an ember burning against the cold, and she gasps. He kisses her then, lips warm against hers and the warmth spreads like fire through her veins. She opens her mouth beneath his with a soft cry and returns his kiss. Her world narrowing to the feel of mouths and lips and tongue, she clings to him, lets the heat he stokes in her chase away the cold.

An eternity later, he pulls away from her. She moans in protest, wanting more, until his fingers skim across her breast, ghost along the curve of her hip, and the fire building beneath her skin blazes at his touch.

She arches into the contact, her hips bucking against his, and everything changes. There is no more lazy kissing, no more gentle touches, just the fierce pressure of his mouth on her lips, her jaw, her breast, just the sudden movement of his hips, just the hard length of him pressing against the throbbing pulse between her legs as he pushes slowly into her.

She cries out as they move together, the heat building inside her unbearable, a sun trapped inside her skin, devouring her, white-hot and burning and oh—

Tangled together in the darkness of the bedchamber, Hades teaches her of a different kind of fire. She lies warm in his arms, and has no more need of the sun.


End file.
